Closure
by ohso-oblivious
Summary: Severus needs something from Dumbledore. HBP spoilers.


Title: Closure

Author: ohsooblivious

Pairing: None.

Rating: PG

Summary: Severus needs something. HBP spoilers.

Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. Characters and previous events belong to J.K. Rowling; song lyrics belong to Terminal and Emery.

Author Notes: I felt like I had to write something about Dumbledore's death. I didn't like it in the book and here's the result. ) Hope you people like it. By the way, listen to Terminal and Emery. They rawk some serious ass. )

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_Give me closure, that's all I ask of you._

- Terminal

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"My people! Today is the day we rejoice and celebrate because one of my faithful servants here," at this, he gestured with one of his shriveled and gnarled fingers towards Severus, "has delivered a great blow to the other side! The old coot has finally fallen!" Voldemort raised his hands and with a deafening roar, all the Death Eaters cheered. Severus Snape could see the legions of Death Eaters from his "Place of Honor", the dais. Voldemort turned to him then and rasped, "So Severus, no regrets?" Severus maintained an emotionless face and replied, "Of course not, he was too trusting, the muggle-loving fool." He sneered disdainfully. Voldemort stared at him shrewdly then, apparently satisfied, smirked. "Good, I was hoping not. Somewhere, I got the notion you weren't _entirely_ faithful." Severus lowered his head and nodded, whispering quietly, "Of course not." No one noticed that his knuckles were clenched tightly in his lap; after all, this was the man who killed Dumbledore – what else had he need to fear? 

Severus Snape was not a man to cry over spilled milk, so to speak. If things were done, it was done, and there was no moping over it. But somehow, this time, Snape could not bring himself to _not_ think about Dumbledore's death. He could still see very clearly the plea behind the crooked half-moon spectacles, and saw them dart to the corner of the tower – of course; he already knew the Potter brat was there. He knew that Harry needed Dumbledore, yet that didn't change a thing as he raised his wand, curse in his throat working its way up. It didn't change his mind as the bright green light raced towards Dumbledore.

'So much like Potter's eyes.' He mused afterwards.

He still remembered the look on Dumbledore's face as he hung over the battlements, that clear moment in his mind, forever branded on his mind. There was no resentment or disappointment in those eyes, only resignation, a great sadness and pain – oh so much pain. The closing of his eyes as he prepared to fall, and the small tightening of his lips were all Severus could see at that moment. He seemed so old then, so old and weary and – _peaceful._

Severus knew he had to kill Dumbledore. He knew from the moment he took Narcissa's hand to the moment Flitwick rushed into his room with his stubby little legs that, he was going to kill Dumbledore for Draco Malfoy. The pale tall _boy_ didn't have the guts to kill someone, he knew it from the start, and yet he took that vow in his little room at Spinner's End. He took it knowing, and maybe that was why it's killing him now. Maybe that's why he was didn't sleep, even though it seemed like eras had passed since he last slept. Maybe that's why he sits in the damp dungeons stirring an empty cauldron, and maybe that's why sometimes at night, he lets a few tears fall.

Narcissa came to visit on the day of Dumbledore's funeral. She stood on his doorstep in plain black dress robes. He had been stirring his cauldron absently in the dungeons when she had rung the humongous bell that snapped him out of his reverie. Walking briskly to the front door, he flung it open and upon seeing his disheveled state, Narcissa Malfoy stepped back.

"I suppose it's my fault," she said quietly, seemingly staring straight through him. Severus said nothing, whether it was from the many days of disuse or just simply because he didn't want to talk to her, Narcissa did not know. Under his blank stare, she fidgeted and stuttered out, "I-I'm sorry." She heaved a great sigh. "I'm sorry." Narcissa didn't know what to expect after that, but it surprised her when he burst out laughing hysterically. "When _ever_ did a **MALFOY** apologize?" After a moment, he said hoarsely, "Good day Mrs. Malfoy." She stood stock still for a minute, before the door slammed in her face. She attended Dumbledore's funeral that day, sitting quietly at the back. She felt no remorse at his death; after all, it was a choice between him and her family. Besides, people die in wars, the world at large should start getting used to it. Back at Prince Manor, Severus was still in the dungeons, by his cauldron. His fingertips were white, clutching the edge of the cauldron and grinding his teeth, willing himself to believe it too; that people do die in wars. Trying to convince himself that Dumbledore meant nothing to him, no one significant. Trying to stop the tears from falling in daylight – he would not be made weak.

Severus never expected to feel this way after he killed Dumbledore. He had killed before, after all, that was one of the requirements of being a Death Eater. He remembered his Initiation Ceremony down to the last detail. It was dark already, and the sky was cloudless. He met the Death Eaters at his house and he was given his task. His task was to kill his cousin.

And he did it.

It didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. After all, it was a matter of survival – him or Severus. Self-preservation was the trait that put him in Slytherin and by Merlin, was he good at that.

He still remembered his glazed eyes. Severus will forever remember the eyes of people he killed. Wide open in fear, a hint of blue in gray eyes and he remembered his pink lips open in an "Oh." It didn't bother him much – at least, not to the point of crying. Yet, with Dumbledore's death, he _didn't know_ what he was feeling. There was no remorse in him and yet…it was _something_.

That very night, Narcissa visited again. She stood on the doorstep again, this time wearing dark navy robes that emphasized her paleness. She rang the bell again and this time, Severus didn't even bother going to the door. He was content in his study, down in the dungeons, stirring his empty cauldron, pretending that he was in Hogwarts and Dumbledore was still upstairs, eating his sherbet lemons. Alive. The door of his study was tossed open with a '_bang!_' and Narcissa strolled in. Severus raised his eyebrows sardonically and sneered, "What do you want again? Another Unbreakable Vow needing my help?"

Narcissa flinched and looked like he had slapped her. Her high cheekbones were frail and, almost transparent looking, her eyes strangely blank, yet she still had the old Malfoy dignity about her - however little it may be. Losing her nerve, she said in an undertone, "I didn't get to say goodbye last time. A-And… thank you." With that, she rushed out the door, heels clattering on the stone floors, robes trailing behind her. By the time she reached the front doors, Severus had gone back to his stirring.

He stopped. "Goodbye…?" he murmured thoughtfully into his cauldron.

Severus didn't bother with flowers. He stood in front of the White Tomb, gazing thoughtfully down at the white marble. What did he hope to achieve in coming here? He really didn't know. Maybe he was looking for forgiveness, that maybe when he paid his tributes, all his crimes and sins would be cleansed from him. Or maybe he was looking for retribution, that somehow visiting the tomb would correct his past sins. Or maybe – just maybe, he was looking for closure from the man who had so blindly trusted him and took him under his wing. Maybe he was looking for all those things: forgiveness, retribution, closure. He kept telling himself that he didn't need this, didn't need retribution or forgiveness or closure from _anyone_. That Dumbledore was just a foolish, trusting old man. That's what he kept telling himself over and over again.

But deep down inside, something twisted and it _hurt_. He didn't know how long he was standing in front of the tomb – minutes became seconds and hours seemed like years. The sun shone down onto his pale skin, lank hair and for a second, or minute or hour, he didn't know; felt like everything would be okay. He bent down and leaned his head against the warm white marble. His hands brushed against the inscriptions on Dumbledore's stone and stood up.

_'He was just a foolish old man, so trusting. It was his own fault that he trusted me and got killed, it was his own fault'._ That's what Severus repeated in his head. But somehow, there was a twinge in his heart that he couldn't understand, as he turned his back to the White Tomb and Hogwarts and all that he's ever known and stalked out the gates one last time.

_'Goodbye.' _He whispered.

A/N: All right, you guys can come beat me up now. Urgh! This didn't exactly turn out the way I wanted it to. Anyway, it was meant to be Snape as a cold bastard, allegiances adjustable and malleable. All I've managed was an insane Snape. I'll just go hide in my corner now. And lastly, please review. ) Point out things that might help and grammatical errors. ) Thanks uber much guys!


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